


the raindrops fall through dust

by DragonEyez



Series: classwork that slapped [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), on some "we deserve a soft epilogue my love" shit, what if orpheus and eurydice were black lesbians, what if persephone pulled a hades
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27248209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonEyez/pseuds/DragonEyez
Summary: “I’ve come to fetch back my heart from the Queen of the Damned Spring.” What came from her mouth was unrecognizable to her own ears, and she winced slightly at the sound of it. “She doesn’t belong in the wasteland any more than I do, please let me pass to right this wrong.”“Perhaps.” The wind moved to surround her entirely, enveloping her gently. “But I’ve heard many cry that there are those beyond my banks who should not yet be. Those who passed early, or unexpectedly, withoutgoodbyes.Why is this any different?”Thorns caught at the cavity where her heart once sat , and it was as if something tore loose within her.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: classwork that slapped [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989502
Kudos: 4





	the raindrops fall through dust

**Author's Note:**

> title from [Trial by Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cG8Xlm8iLek) by The Mechanisms
> 
> i made a spotify playlist for this that i actually thought was worth sharing so if youre looking for vibes while you read this click [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4ZMB2fQlPbDfv274iVouLI?si=7f66KC0pQpqc0XsV-gchpQ)
> 
> this was an another class assignment that i ended up liking enough to post

As her knees hit the gravel once more, Sable realized she’d lost track of how many times the same thing had occurred over the hours? days? that she’d been walking along the narrow, low-lit path. Her lips were cracked and dry, the toes of her shoes worn thin, and the knees of her pants non-existent. And still, no matter how many times she stumbled due to exhaustion or felt as though her vocal cords would shred from the strain, she traveled onwards, ever walking, ever singing. Or, she tried to sing. 

It had been easy, in the beginning, to throw her mournful tenor into the darkness ahead of her and let the echo return it. Eventually, her mouth grew dry and her voice cracked, so she hummed instead. Ditties, lullabies, wedding songs, funeral dirges, Sable pulled every melody she knew from the recesses of her mind. And when she could no longer hum, she whistled. She whistled as she took her first spill in the tunnel and as she picked herself up and kept going. It had been easier then, with the memory of being kissed by the sun still warming her skin and being kissed by her love still warming her heart. It was easy, she knew. She just had to make it to the riverbank. One foot in front of the other. 

There came a time when light shone into the tunnel, and Sable knew it wasn’t just her eyes straining for the ghost of another memory. It sparked hope in her chest. Finally, a reminder that she hadn’t sprung from the gravel fully formed. She had a purpose, she had a goal. Despite cracked heels, she began to run. Despite cracked voice, she began to call out for her love.

But she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a river of dust and faded dreams danced before Sable’s eyes, and she fell to her knees once more. The wind lifted her hair and wrapped around her shoulders with a weight reminiscent of a shawl. (She had once woven a shawl for Sable. It was airy but still kept the chill away in the cold months.) 

“Why have you come here, child? Do you yearn for Death so, that you run to it with open arms? Turn back, there’s nothing more for you here.” Dry heat filled her ears as the rasp of sand and dirt surrounded her. There was no sign of the speaker, but she didn’t let that bother her. Summoning whatever spit she still had in her, she wet her lips.

“I’ve come to fetch back my heart from the Queen of the Damned Spring.” What came from her mouth was unrecognizable to her own ears, and she winced slightly at the sound of it. “She doesn’t belong in the wasteland any more than I do, please let me pass to right this wrong.”

“Perhaps.” The wind moved to surround her entirely, enveloping her gently. “But I’ve heard many cry that there are those beyond my banks who should not yet be. Those who passed early, or unexpectedly, without goodbyes. Why is this any different?”

Thorns caught at the cavity where her heart once sat , and it was as if something tore loose within her. Maybe it was a blessing from her mother, or a newfound strength found at the breaking point, or just pure grief. But it didn’t matter where it came from, she didn’t care. The wail that had been slowly bubbling within Sable poured from her mouth as a wave of song. This ballad was new to her, she had never heard this before, not even in dreams. Love, longing, lust, loss, the endless march she had drug herself on to retrieve the life that had once been promised, all of it spilled from her lips and fell at her feet. If she’d been able to, Sable was sure she would have started crying. As it was, the wind tightened its grip on her and only when the calm of her storm washed over did it release her.

“Oh child. Oh you lumbering thing of clay and earth. Ford the river. Be quick and careful, but most of all, be certain.”

That was all the blessing Sable needed. She lumbered to her feet and dove headfirst into the storm before her.

This wind was nothing like the gentle one that had encircled her earlier; this wanted her gone and let her know so. It tore at her hair and whipped sand and dust at her skin. The dreams it carried in its currents shrieked at her, begged her to stay. Promises of love and life, joy and sorrow, triumph and heartbreak. None of it appealed to her. All she could do was squint and shield her nose and mouth as best she could against the onslaught as she pressed forward. Gales buffeted her and the river tried to pull her down but they couldn’t stop her now. Broken and battered as she felt, she pushed forward until she fell out on the other side, sucking down lungfuls of clean air. 

A cascade of sand fell around her as Sable undid the ponytail that had failed to keep her braids tied back. With a tired sigh, she shook them out, doing her best to free herself of the river’s remnants. It would be time soon to replace them (if she was being honest she should have taken them out long ago) but memories of a bright kitchen and even brighter laughter as clever fingers wove her hair made her hesitate. Walking as she tied them back, she noticed the outlines of people in the near distance. The closer she got, the blurrier the outlines seemed. Even after she rubbed at her eyes, they still appeared out of focus, not even noticing her as she walked past and through them. It was then she realized that this was it. The beginning of the end. 

The shades paid Sable no mind as she moved through them. They drifted slowly away from her, as if repelled by blood singing in her veins or breath pumping through her lungs. But none of them turned to look at her, or even so much as acknowledged her presence. It almost made her wonder if she was the spirit. But she ached too much to believe that for even a second. Ghosts didn’t have gaping wounds where their hearts should be.

Past the sea of shades, large and looming, stood a palace. A terrible onyx thing clawing at the space above it as if fighting to exist. No gates were needed to prevent unwanted entry, why would there be? Entry was barred by dogs so close together it was impossible to tell if they were three heads on a body or separate entities. As soon as they caught her scent it was hackles raised and teeth bared. They were a shadow of fangs and claws and flying spit and Sable felt herself mirroring them. Her voice was near gone and her legs ready to give out beneath her. But she’d sworn not to stop until she reached the Queen. The instinctive part of her brain screaming to runrunrun was drowned out by the memory of wind in her ears. Be quick and careful, but most of all, be certain. 

There was something in the back of her mind though; a memory of a reedy pond that she’d passed somewhere in the mass of spirits. Turning on her heels, she made her way back to it, and sure enough, several bunches of reeds growing from stagnant water. She selected the thickest looking one and snapped it off, a violent motion matching her frustrations. Its weight sat well in her hands and it wasn’t misshapen. This, she could work with. Reaching into her pocket, Sable pulled out a small pocket knife, dulled with age but still sharp enough to do its job. With it, she carved out a rough-looking flute. It wasn’t beautiful, but a test blow proved that it would serve its purpose. 

Squaring her shoulders, Sable marched directly towards that writhing mass of fur, no fear, no hesitation. What was the worst they could do to her? The dogs lunged, furious at her trespass. At the same time, she raised her flute to her lips and played, sweet, sorrowful notes that stopped the dog(s?) short. They still let out a low growl, but their pause was enough for her to keep walking and playing. Sometimes the notes went shrill or dropped and that was enough for the thread to remerge still, she played. Step by step, inch by inch, Sable moved closer to her goal. She didn’t dare turn her back to the creatures till she felt her heel kick against the monolith. As soon as she felt the press of that monstrosity, she slipped the flute into her back pocket and forced her way through the doors, not giving the now-alert dog a chance to come after her. 

Inside, in the deep dark emptiness of a palace, it felt almost exactly like being back in the tunnel. Sable half-expected to hear the crunch of gravel beneath her feet as she walked forward. She had no way of knowing where she was going, but she didn’t need to know. The cavity in her chest began to whisper like a secret, and all she had to do was follow until it was screaming. There, through the throne room, through the onyx doors, through the mica panes half-blocking out the light. There.

A garden of dead flowers and carved jewels and pomegranate trees, and in the center, kneeling at the foot of a stone bench, was Billie. 

Billie didn’t notice her, though. Her eyes were downwards as she wove a crown of marigolds and garlic flowers and onion blossoms. (Sable remembered how she had once lovingly pointed to each bundle of herbs hanging to dry on their walls and named their uses). On the bench, sitting above Sable’s heart, was the Porcelain Lady, Queen of the Damned Spring, thief. 

“Hello, Sable.” The woman didn’t even bother looking up from where she was tucking magnolias in Billie's short curls. “Lovely of you to join us.” 

“I’m not here for you.” Her voice rasped out, and she winced at the sound. There wasn’t much to do about it, though. At the sound of it, Billie’s face finally turned upwards to her, and the wonderment on her face made tears prick behind Sable’s eyes. “I’m here for my wife.”

That made Persephone look at her, pomegranate stained lips pressed thin in obvious disdain. It was a flicker of an expression, quickly replaced with a placating, empty smile. Her hands stilled, and she turned entirely to face her. “You seem parched. Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Why, so you can trap me here, too? Absolutely not. I’m takin’ my wife, and we’re goin’ home.” She walked forward, hands outstretched, reaching towards ones she knew slotted perfectly into her own. Billie reached back, but her wrist was caught by a pale hand. Sable’s mind could only register the contrast it made against the warm brown skin that she knew as intimately as she knew her own. 

“Sable.” A melody, low and sweet. She knelt in the wilting grass to look Billie in the face, reaching up to cover the hand that caressed her cheek with one of her own. With such a simple gesture, the cavity where her heart had once sat filled once more, and the beat it tattooed against her ribs was beautiful agony. “What happened to you baby? You look-”

“-I look a whole mess. Believe me, I know.” 

“No, you look tired.”

“Don’t think I’ve slept since you’ve been gone. Been walkin’ all this time, just tryna get to you. You wouldn’t believe the things I saw.”

“This is all very touching, but Sable, you seem to have forgotten something.” Honeydew sweet words slid down Sable’s spine like a bad chill. In the joy of being reunited with her heart, she’d forgotten the reason for its absence was still with them. “What the Underworld takes, it keeps. And I brought lovely, sweet Billie back home with me. We’ve been having a wonderful time together, haven’t we?”

“It has been nice. But I miss the sun something fierce, and flowers, real fresh flowers. And the rain. And the moon.”

“Oh but-”

Sable looked between the two women in disbelief. “Are you serious right now.”

Persephone turned her gaze upon Sable, eyes of jet piercing her soul. “Of course I am. I’m lonely. Do you think I enjoy sitting here amongst the dead and forgotten for ages on ages, alone? While my husband works and wanders and leaves the bed cold?”

“And how do you-” She broke off in short coughs, the strain on her voice as it rose becoming too much. “And how do you think I feel now? Our house empty, the garden strugglin’, the hearth dim. It’s too quiet. And you caused it. Please. Let me take Billie home.”

Persephone leaned back, finally releasing her grip on Billie’s wrist. “I-” Billie laid a hand on her knee, saying nothing. The two looked at each other before the queen turned back to Sable. Suddenly the terribleness melted away as her jaw trembled and her shoulders pulled back as if to hide how much she wanted to let them slump. “Fine. Convince me. Convince me your happiness is worth more than mine, and I’ll let you take her. Sing for me. ”

Surprised at her acquiescence, Sable turned to look at Billie, as if to confirm she wasn’t imagining things. But Billie only nodded once, firmly, encouraging expression. So, legs shaking, Sable stood once more, tried to wet her throat as best she could, and poured her heart out. Every loving glance, every soft touch, late night and early morning, cooking together, sitting in the garden, the cabin, the damn herbs on the wall. Every good thing Billie was, and everything Sable had tried to give in return. She sang the song that she had played for the beast, and the ballad she had given the wind, and every tune that had led her through the darkness. And when she couldn’t even force out a hoarse whisper, she fell silent. 

Billie stood and rested her head on Sable’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her waist as they waited for judgement, together. 

Tears fell fast and free from the Lady’s eyes, and every one that hit the ground became a Widow’s Tear, till a small bouquet had sprung. “One- one condition. Billie, you must walk behind Sable the whole journey back. Sable, you may not turn to look at her until you both stand under open sky. If you do, Billie will return to me, and there will be no second chance.” 

“Deal.” Sable pressed a kiss to the crown of her wife’s head, and turned her back.

The journey back was silent. Not for lack of trying, Sable tried to strike up conversation. But she couldn’t speak and without being able to see Billie, signing was useless. So they walked in silence. The dog let them be. The dead parted even faster this time. The river was calm, and the wind a light breeze, tickling the back of her neck as she passed. The tunnel seemed almost shorter going than it had felt coming. And still, she kept her eyes fixed ahead. If she were lesser, if she was scared, if she was hopeless, she might have turned. She would have turned. Fear of another act of treachery made its home in her thoughts. But the steady beat in her ribcage spurred her on. Nothing could mimic that. 

Even after she passed the mouth of the tunnel, back into clean fresh air, untainted with the taste of earth and death, she did not turn. It was not until she crossed the threshold of their own home that she dared. Slowly, she looked behind her, and was overwhelmed to see that yes, yes she was there. There was Billie, bathed in moonlight, home at last. Waves of exhaustion crashed against Sable then, and her wife caught her with a slight laugh. 

“Bed time, baby.”

They fell into their bed, together, and even through the fog of sleep, Sable smiled at the way their hearts beat in sync.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments and constructive criticism are appreciated, and i can be found [here](https://theunacceptablepylades.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and [@frabjousgay](https://twitter.com/frabjousgay) on twitter


End file.
